Deep Waters
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: On the one-year anniversary celebrating Hillwood's victory against FTi, Arnold knows that there are still unresolved conflicts between him and Helga. However, neither of them expected to have their paths tangled once again, this time as partners for a rather invasive English project… no harm could come from that, right? :Arnold/Helga:


**Title: **_Deep Waters_

**Rating: **_K+ — T_

**Genre: **_General/Humor/Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Drama/Romance_

**Coupling: **_Arnold x Helga_

**Setting: **_Canon Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Full Summary: **_The "FTi Incident" has sparked simultaneous unrest and thankfulness throughout Hillwood. One year later, on the anniversary of the day the neighborhood was meant to be destroyed, Arnold and Gerald are still being recognized for their cause. However, even with all the delighted energy and a fresh start to the school year, there are still unresolved conflicts between our football-headed hero and Helga Pataki… and what better way to tangle their paths together once more than through an English project? _

**A/N**: **Hey everyone! This is my first "Hey Arnold!" story. I absolutely **_**adore **_**the show and basically everything about it, especially the dynamic relationship between Arnold and Helga. They're just so… fascinating. The show itself is emotional, deep and impressive, especially for a cartoon, and I've fallen in love with it all over again. **

**Hope you all enjoy my take on a new story! Constructive criticism would be very much welcomed and appreciated! Thanks!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

The Hillwood Heroes

* * *

><p>Explosions of colorful confetti littered the asphalt and sidewalks. Huge musical instruments from all various kinds were strapped to the broad chests of marching men and women as they played each one. Trombones roared, trumpets blasted, drums quaked and accordions echoed in an excellent chorus that raised nothing but high expectations from the citizens of Hillwood.<p>

It was particularly exciting for the local students, since school hours were specially closed for this brand new holiday that was just recently established by the mayor of the city. After the courageous efforts of a fourth-grader named Arnold Shortman and his best friend, Gerald, the neighborhood was rescued from demolition and allowed the residents to remain where they were in happiness.

The first few months after the Future Tech Industries Company was shut down permanently (due to the arrest of the chief executive, Mr. Scheck), Hillwood could only drink in the peace for so long without longing to make some declaration, some way of giving thanks to the brave kids that risked their lives to help the people they loved.

Of course, not everyone knew the whole story. Only Arnold—the kindhearted and generous person that he was—knew every little detail, and no matter how many times he was interviewed, he refused to exploit the privacy of the one individual that he knew would be devastated if he revealed the truth to anyone. The tabloids wanted all the answers, but he was not going to give them away.

The answers were not his to give to begin with.

"Arnold, don't you think that this is kind of…" Gerald hesitated, spreading his arms out wide and trying to emphasize the over-decorated efforts of his outfit. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit that represented the red and gold colors of Hillwood, supposedly from the Mayor's personal request. "I dunno, _seventies_?"

Arnold shrugged, smirking. "It won't be so bad, Gerald. We just have to get some letter of recognition or something from the Mayor, and then we're off the hook. Hopefully this is a one-time thing." He really didn't favor the idea of repeating the same ceremony _every year_. He still couldn't believe that the Mayor wanted to dress them up and parade them around the city like two petting zoo animals in the first place.

Sure, he was proud to have saved Hillwood and help all of his friends. It was the main purpose of the mission. But, at one point, he believed that he would only be required to wear suits less than five times before he became a teenager. Obviously those expectations backfired.

"I heard that there's gonna be a camera crew and everything! First a marching band, then dancing girls, and even the _Mayor _of _Hillwood _is going to be right there, face-to-face with us, with… I dunno, badges of honor or somethin'." Gerald's eyes practically glistened to the idea, and his theories were only supported in response to the heavy music playing outside the middle school.

The hallways were vacant, quiet, and not at all what Arnold was used to. There was something about the air that bothered him, something about the way it shifted when he and Gerald spoke about this strange day and the fact that he and his best friend were, well… bluntly said, they were considered heroes.

_Hero_. The word sounded foreign, even in Arnold's stream of conscience. He gave Gerald a blank look when the other tried stuffing his feet into the polished shoes Mr. Simmons had brought them in preparation for the ceremony. This all felt so odd.

"Wouldn't that be cool if we became even more famous on TV, Arnold? We could get our names out, broadcast our true talents, and soon we'll be rollin' in the dough!"

"Gerald," Arnold started, chuckling. "I doubt that's ever going to happen. I'm still trying to adjust to all this…" He glanced down at his outfit; he still wasn't matching with Gerald completely, since he hadn't put on his pinstriped jacket to match his pants and shoes. The long-sleeved, collared white shirt he wore and the black tie only reminded him of the thrill of breaking into the FTi headquarters.

"There you are, Shortman!"

Arnold blinked and smiled at seeing his grandfather racing down the hall, looking nothing less than frazzled in his rumpled black overalls and huge boxes tucked under his arms. Once he made it to his grandson and Gerald, he nearly doubled over, heaving in exhaustion.

"Grandpa?" Arnold blinked. "You… okay? Did you just run from our house?"

"That would be _correct_, Shortman!" Phil straightened his back and howled once he heard an audible _crack _resonate through the hallways. He snickered. "Eh, I may be old, but it'll take more than a light jog to take me down! Eh, wait… why was I here again?" He then laughed. "Oh, of course! These boxes. Pookie gave these to me to give to you, Arnold."

Gerald grinned at the mentioning of his best friend's hilarious, albeit quite awesome, grandmother. "How's she doin' old timer?"

"Well she'll be here soon. Can't figure out what she could be doing at this time. Anticipation must be killing her." Phil chuckled and dropped the boxes, wiping dust from his hands. "Alright now, Arnold, tell me the absolute, one hundred percent _truth_."

His grandson frowned in confusion. "About…?"

"You gotta be nervous as a country boy proposing land ownership to his old folks! Sweating like crazy? Getting dizzy from all the images of lights on your face and helicopters hovering above your head and snapping pictures of you?"

Arnold rubbed his neck. "Uh, no, Grandpa, I'm not really nervous. I mean, it's not like this is too much of a big deal, right?" He liked downplaying things like this. Yeah, he saved the neighborhood and helped his friends, but he hadn't expected this _special treatment _to come up. He enjoyed the attention at first, but that was only for a few days after the incident and everything was back to normal.

Experiencing the events and replaying memories all over again made him think of too many things simultaneously, and truthfully it was doing nothing but give him a headache.

"Keep your nerves at bay Shortman!" Phil stated, pounding his chest. "Oh, and I have absolutely no idea what's in those boxes, but enjoy! Gotta run and make sure everything's in order for your big _fancy thing-a-ma-jig_!"

And with that, he disappeared with a trail of smoke and dust behind him. Arnold couldn't remember the last time he witnessed his grandfather act so sporadically… maybe something was up. _Or_, he was thinking too hard.

Both would be a possibility.

"What are you waiting for Arnold? Let's open 'em," Gerald quipped, grabbing the smaller box and placing it on his lap. He tore the lid off, blinking owlishly. "Oi, your grandma packed us… costumes?"

He pulled out a garment—no, a cocktail _suit_—that was definitely far too big for him and covered in what looked like animal hairs… but coming from the boarding house it could have been anything really. When Arnold opened the accompanying box he found a similar suit, both dated and conveying some weird message in his grandmother's mind, the preteen supposed.

"My grandma's so weird," he mumbled.

"Well, what do you think these are for?"

"I have no idea Gerald…" Arnold rummaged through the suit jacket, his fingers grazing the velvet material in surprise. "It must've been expensive a long time ago. It really doesn't look like anything I've seen in the boarding house." He then unfolded the entire garment, and his eyes widened in surprise. "It's… a dress."

"A dress?" Gerald shrugged. "Weird."

"Wait," Arnold interjected. "There's something else in this box." His hand scraped the bottom of the container and he pulled out a blue envelope. He raised an eyebrow, ripped open the folded paper and pulled out what seemed to be monogrammed letter. As soon as his eyes flowed over the words, his eyes momentarily widened, and then a cloud of sadness hovered over him.

"You okay Arnold?" Gerald asked, frowning.

"… These are both my mom and dad's," Arnold whispered, unbelieving. "Why would my grandma send these…?" The letter mentioned a concept about "memories" and "remaining with those who loved him". _Especially in the times where they would be proud of you_, he echoed within his mind.

So, his grandmother wanted him to know that if his parents were there, they would probably be dressed in these old outfits, cheering in pride for their son, who had accomplished quite a lot at such a young age. Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face and he shook his head in amusement.

His grandparents amazed him at times.

* * *

><p><em>Criminy, is there really no way for a girl to find <em>one stinkin' _spot in this whole crowd? _Helga inwardly groaned at the sight of the numerous people that had gathered around the marching band in the streets. Beside her, Phoebe had her notebook opened, glancing over her private documentations as her friend continued moaning about how unfair it was that they had terrible viewing arrangements.

"This is getting on my nerves, Pheebs," the pigtailed bully muttered, her unibrow furrowed and her attention diverting continuously between the people cheering at the marching band and the humongous instruments that each one somehow carried over their shoulders. That really was impressive, she had to admit.

But not impressive enough to distract her from _other thoughts _circulating through her head like a churning storm.

The Asian girl beside her simply shrugged and sighed, wearing thick woolen mittens to protect her aching fingers from the dropping temperatures in Hillwood. "Well, Helga, if you're truly that upset about where we're standing in order to view the receivers of the award that the Mayor is about to give out…"

"Psh, I couldn't care less about _this_, Phoebe. All these people are just making it a lot more difficult to chuck tomatoes at the Football Head and Tall-Hair Boy. You know, once they come out sporting their 'I'm ready to get my award' faces." Helga smirked comically, crossing her arms and practically jumping with anticipation to see the victim of her bullying and his best friend saunter out of the P.S. 118 building in order to swallow up the recognition they deserved.

"I'm sure that maybe you could get into some serious trouble for interfering in a public, _televised _event, Helga," Phoebe warned. Besides, she really didn't enjoy the idea of Helga humiliating Gerald on live TV in front of a massive crowd of eager people. It was too cruel, and she believed that even the harshest member of the Pataki family could find that those actions would be too extreme.

Yet Helga had surprised her many times before.

Helga blinked once the band stopped their performance, and the Mayor of Hillwood strode to the middle of the path that the uniformed men and women had created. She was wearing a short knee-length black dress, her makeup professionally done and her hair styled to the best of whatever she could muster within her limited amount of time.

She tapped the microphone in her hands and lifted her voice for everyone to hear. "People of Hillwood," she began, "I am so, _so _glad to commemorate the occasion with an event of recognition, specifically focusing on what had occurred only one year ago from today!"

All around her, Helga heard cheering, the voices of families that were almost lost on the day that the FTi construction workers nearly destroyed everything.

It made bitterness swell in her stomach.

"If it were not for the efforts of two very brave fourth-graders, and of course some friends along the side, Hillwood would not be what it is today." The woman cleared her throat and gestured behind her, where Mr. Simmons was exiting the nearest building and looking extremely happy to be standing in front of an admiring crowd. "Mr. Simmons, the proud teacher of these fine gentlemen from one year ago, has offered to present them."

Helga inwardly smiled, trying to prevent a swoon from escaping her. _Oh, Arnold, my love, you wonderful oblong-faced hero! You are about to receive the award that you truly deserve! I'm so excited to witness this and hopefully see your happy expression from this… weird, but necessary occasion! _She sighed, oblivious to the odd looks Phoebe was giving her.

"It is to my great pleasure that I present to you, Mr. Simmons' students, Arnold Shortman and Gerald Johansson!"

Another chorus of applause erupted from the crowds, and once the two boys were outside and escorted to the platform that the Mayor was standing on (Mr. Simmons right at their heels), Helga and Phoebe could both tell that boys were practically frozen on sight.

Well, Gerald was adjusting just fine, even going so far as to blow kisses to the audience and occasionally brushing his tall mop of hair back, smirking towards the news cameras positioned in all corners of the street. Arnold, however, looked just as petrified as a statue.

Helga blinked and raised an eyebrow at the weird way her secret love looked. "Huh. Football Head doesn't look too excited to be standing up there, does he?"

"Indeed he does not…" Phoebe finished, also apparently confused.

Helga folded her arms across her chest, and used this as an opportunity to admire the Shortman boy. As usual, he was adorable to her, though he was dressed in what looked like a ridiculous pinstriped suit that seemed like it belonged in the seventies. She would've laughed if he already didn't look so startled, like a total deer in headlights. His hair was clearly brushed and, surprisingly, he was still wearing his trademark blue hat, despite the fancy—and tacky—nature of what he was wearing.

She wondered if he still thought about it, even one year later, like _she_ frequently did. Standing on the balcony of the FTi Headquarters building, proclaiming her darkest desires and affections for the one person she would trade the universe for… and everything that followed, the intensity, the heated exchange between them and the fact that he allowed her to take back everything she said only a half an hour later…

Her teeth slightly ground at the flickering memories, projecting in the back of her mind like a slideshow. She wondered if he even thought about her at all, with the appearance of all these cameras and the fact that the Mayor wanted it to be clear that Arnold and Gerald deserved the greatest recognition imaginable.

Hillwood wasn't exactly a _huge _city… nonetheless, the impact the two boys hade made on their little society was a huge deal. She was happy that her secret never escaped Arnold's senses; he never told anyone about Deep Voice, about the secrets she conjured in order to keep the boy she loved safe, and even surprisingly making sure that no one else suffered as a result.

_Stupid Arnoldo. _She sighed, rubbing her temples. He was excruciatingly annoying and he caused so much pain… and yet, so much joy and secret happiness in her life. Without him, she would be miserable. Without him, she felt like she had no other reason to live.

"Now, boys, I would like to bestow my gratitude by giving you these." The Mayor of Hillwood pulled out two glittering golden badges, each engraved with separate messages unique to the receiver.

* * *

><p>Arnold struggled not to be overwhelmed with the curious glances cast in his direction, the slight thrumming of energy invading his senses, and even the confidence that drifted from Gerald's expressions made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. His fingers trembled and his throat felt tight; this was happening, but nothing could block the incredible images and pictures that floated through his mind.<p>

He thought this would be easy. Accepting a prestigious award next to his best friend seemed nothing compared to what the two had done in the past. They stuck with each other through thick and thin, and embraced the impossible, even if it would probably cost them their reputations and, in more serious situations, their safety.

Once the Mayor brought out the two medals, his pupils dilated in surprise. They were so… _big_, and polished, and professional-looking. If his parents really were there, like his grandmother envisioned, they would have probably bawled their eyes out in satisfaction and joy.

A small part of him… no, a very, very big part of him, wished that there were three medals being presented, and not just two. He was sick of hearing that this was all about him and Gerald, just the unlikely middle school-aged boys that were more than determined to save their neighborhood.

But it wasn't like he had forgotten. Even after one year, the memories rang clear as day. Sometimes he would dream about the encounter, the intensity of standing beneath the pouring rain, the thunderous storms cascading in the background, and the billowing blonde pigtails, the water-soaked pink bow—

He shook his head, blinking rapidly and rubbing his forehead. He was thinking too far into this. There was nothing he could do to change anything, especially not the surges of guilt coursing through his body and mind at this very moment.

"Congratulations to our very own heroes of Hillwood, Arnold Shortman and Gerald Johansson!" The Mayor's voice streamed through the city like a war cry, and another eruption of delighted cheers and clapping came from the crowd.

Arnold blushed from the amount of attention, and put on his best smile once people started stepping forward to snap photographs. He spotted his classmates watching him, their parents, and his grandparents were positioned near the front, looking just as proud as anyone else would be.

His eyes trailed forward, and then he saw her.

His breath nearly caught in his throat, the world around him suddenly turning silent, as the same memories came flashing back, and the replay of what happened that fateful early morning—on the very day Hillwood was about to be destroyed—that his childhood bully dropped her façade for only him to see.

It was… it was just the heat of the moment, an interjection in his journey to save his home that shouldn't have stuck with him. Yet after that, he couldn't take his mind off the fact that the blonde girl who tormented him for _years _had disguised herself as the mysterious "Deep Voice", professed her love for him, grabbed him and… _kissed _him, and remained by his and Gerald's side to stop Scheck from following through with his vengeful plans.

Whenever he thought about this day, just one year ago, he couldn't shake those thoughts out of his mind. She had told him what she believed to be true, and at that time he thought she really _was _wrapped up in the desperation and chaos, and rambling about thoughts she didn't understand. He didn't reject her, exactly… but the situation was so confusing it would have been worse if he hadn't reminded her that she was his _bully _and that he had _hated _her for too long.

Arnold's gaze was glued to the girl standing in the far back of the crowd, talking about something to her closest friend Phoebe Heyerdahl, and all he could think about was why she wasn't standing up there beside him and Gerald.

She didn't want her name broadcast for the world to see that her actions were selfless, and kind, and actually totally beneficial to Hillwood. She claimed she did everything for him, and even if he didn't want to believe that was true, the city was still saved because of _her_. If Deep Voice didn't exist, his neighborhood would be…

_None of this could've been accomplished without her. _

"… Shortman? Mr. Shortman?" The Mayor blinked oddly, and Arnold snapped out of his stupor, just now noticing the confused looks of the people surrounding the podium. Cameras were lowered, with only skeptical expressions replacing the curiosity and admiration.

He swallowed from embarrassment. He had no idea how long he was daydreaming, and in this moment he didn't _want _to know.

"Uh… yeah?" He muttered weakly, ignoring the risen eyebrow look that Gerald was giving him. "I-I mean, yes? I'm sorry, I just… kind of zoned out. I didn't hear the question."

The Mayor chuckled politely and dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "Oh, there is absolutely no problem, Mr. Shortman. I was simply asking you and Mr. Johansson how you both feel, since it's been a year after you bravely risked your lives for our cause."

Well, that was a loaded question.

Gerald quickly stepped in, grasping her microphone and bringing it down to his level. "Well, what my buddy was about to say, is that we're _super pumped _to see what's gonna come next. Believe me, fifth grade is going to be a difficult step in our incredibly dramatic lives," he began, chuckling at his own theatrical flare, "but I gotta say, saving the neighborhood is gonna rank in the top ten Gerald Life Events List, for _sure_."

Arnold nudged him and grinned in appreciation. The message was received, and the other blinked in understanding.

* * *

><p>Was she seeing things…? Was Arnold staring <em>directly <em>at her?

Helga struggled to pay attention to her own words when talking to Phoebe, especially with the very strange glances that the Football Head was giving her from far across the asphalt street. The weirdo was totally focused straight ahead, and she felt like his eyes had landed onto her completely, and without locking contact with him she tried her best to blend in, despite the fact that the crowd was ahead of both her and Phoebe.

"Helga, I'm going to miss what the Mayor is saying. This is a historical event! Surely you're excited to see what our friends are going to say next. Whatever they say could be revolutionary!"

"Yeah, yeah, they'll be printed in textbooks and shipped all over the world. I doubt that this is going to reach past the neighboring farmhouse, Pheebs," Helga barked, sighing in slight annoyance. She just wanted this to be over. She hoped she'd be able to get closer to Arnold, but the crowd was too thick and she didn't feel like pushing and shoving… for once.

Sheesh. If she kept stepping back like this, people would think she lost her groove, her bullying mojo.

"Festivities today, first day of fifth grade tomorrow," Phoebe muttered, breaking Helga's thought process. The blonde blinked rapidly and turned to the Asian, her brow crooked in confusion.

"… Fifth grade starts tomorrow?" _Criminy_.

Fifth grade. A whole new ball game, and with these event fresh in mind…

She stared forward and sighed in simultaneous disappointment and relief when the love of her life had broken his concentrated stare and was talking to the Mayor accordingly, pleasing the people, looking nervous as he did it. Heck, she could tell he was sweating through his suit from here!

"Welp, we better hop on the new agenda, Pheebs. It's gonna be one heck of a busy year."

* * *

><p><em>10:30 PM.<em>

Arnold groaned in misery, turning away from his clock and staring up at the glass ceiling of his room. He dreaded the upcoming morning, where things would supposedly turn back to normal, except in a slightly different format. His classmates would be slightly older, as would he, and hopefully the awkward ceremony just a few hours before would not be discussed in class. If Mr. Simmons was there…

He rubbed his eyelids, exhaling deeply. Maybe he thought about these things too much. He considered calling Gerald from time to time, though he suspected that his best friend was slumbering away, probably dreaming about his denial regarding his obvious growing infatuation with Phoebe Heyerdahl.

And then there was Helga.

Oh, _fudge balls_.

With Helga involved tomorrow morning… he had no idea what she would have in store for him. Spitballs would be aplenty, he suspected, and she would undoubtedly have other schemes rolled up through her pink dress sleeves. Oh, and the maniacal cackling laugh she always released whenever she successfully tricked him would be a requirement for the first day of fifth grade.

He reached over with his right hand, grasping his copy of the shining golden medal that the Mayor presented to him and Gerald. It flashed a picture of Hillwood's emblem, its recognized anthem from decades ago, and a message on the bottom that read: _Thank you for all that you have done for your city_.

And just like that, the guilt rebound. He clutched his stomach, sighing. Why did he even care that much? He doubted that _Helga_ cared. Helga G. Pataki, with her wailing fists and constant scowl… a scowl that broke momentarily for him, and crystalline blue eyes that rippled with too many conflicting emotions for him to notice that one fateful night.

Brilliant. He was thinking about _that _again. He would never be able to sleep at this point. Whenever his mind drifted, it focused on his bully, and the guilt that revolved around her.

But, it wasn't like he had to worry about her "feelings" any longer, right?

After all, she admitted afterwards that she _was _caught up in the heat of the moment. She didn't _love _him. That was utterly ridiculous. There was just no possible, conceivable, explainable, understandable way that Helga _G. _Pataki could have those types of affections for him.

Or maybe, just maybe… he was very, very wrong.

_Man_… He stretched his arms above his head before crossing them, pondering. He really didn't know what to think anymore.

Tomorrow, fifth grade would begin, and he wasn't sure he was prepared for it by any means. Struggling to adjust was one thing.

Being in denial was another thing entirely.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you all enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing that… next chapter will be up soon. College is starting for me again so updates will vary, and this semester will be <strong>_**extremely **_**busy. Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you guys soon!**

**Until next time!**

**- Sulfur Dusk**


End file.
